Adam had tracked the slayer from Richie's to her apartment over a garage. The blue bike she was so protective of was parked inside the garage – Adam had made of point of peering through a window to see it. Taking a deep breath and damning himself for being a boy scout he trudged up the rickety wooden stairs to the garage apartment. Reaching up to knocking on the door, Adam was greeted by the slayer opening the door before he could touch it. “Hi.” Adam's voice sounded slightly breathless, he took a deep breath to try to recover his equilibrium.
“Hi.” The dark haired slayer crossed her hands over her chest and looked very unwelcoming.
“Well, this is awkward.” Adam couldn't believe he was nearly stuttering. In fact, the smarter part of his brain said he should turn around and march back down the stairs. He wasn't certain which was in his best interest. He was a survivor – and had no use for playing the hero – but if the slayer was in town there might be trouble that sticking his head in the sand would not cure. The silence stretched for an impossibly long time. “May I come in?”
Faith stood back from the door, quirking an eyebrow at him. It was clear she wasn't going to invite him in. Rude girl. Then he remembered.
“Oh, right, vampires.” Adam chuckled nervously, and entered the room. Slayers always made him nervous. They were not bound by the rules of the game, and he'd seen plenty of slayers who thought nothing of shooting an immortal at a distance, then taking their heads while they were temporarily dead. “You think I'm a vampire?” Adam looked genuinely surprised.
“I know you're not a vampire. But, if you can get past my wards then you probably mean no harm. At least right now.” Faith shrugged.
“No, I don't mean any harm.” Adam looked around the spare apartment. He didn't see any evidence of the slayer's personality. The room was sparely furnished with a single bed that was not much more than a cot, a sofa that had seen much better days, and a battered wooden coffee table. There wasn't even a rug to warm the linoleum tile floor. A single military duffle lay on the floor beside the sofa. “You're the slayer, the Chosen One.”
“Nope.” Faith responded. “You can let yourself out now.” Faith indicated the door.
“I've seen enough slayers to know what one looks like.”
“Oh really.” Faith drawled. “I'm afraid you must be mistaken. If there's a Chosen One, it ain't me.”
Adam persisted. “I was checking to see there's an apocalypse, if you need any help.”
“No apocalypse until April.”
“Maybe I should speak with your watcher.” Well, that was obviously not the right thing to say. Faith's face darkened – with anger or grief, he couldn't tell.
“I'm not the slayer, I don't have a watcher.” Faith's fingers made quotes in the air. “You want to leave a card? I'll call you if the world's gonna end.”
Adam shook his head and turned to leave. Then, thinking better of it, he pulled a card out of his wallet and silently handed it to the slayer. Faith nodded and shut the door behind him. Adam walked away from the apartment cursing himself for a fool.